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Inigo stood in the center of camp, backlit by the firepit’s dying embers, his voice clear but low. It was still early—gray mist drifted along the field—but the recruits were already moving. Armor was buckled, rifles checked, magazines inspected. No one asked what they were doing. They didn’t need to.

They’d learned by now.

"Form two squads," Inigo ordered. "Saber and Viper. Hal and Brenna lead. You’ll rotate through roles every drill."

Lyra stood beside him, holding ...

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